Slayers in Middle Earth
by szordara
Summary: Several years after the events in Chosen, the developing Slayer's Council has tipped the balance towards good, and are slowly but surely removing evil's influence from their world. The PTB send their emissary, Cordelia Chase, to request further assistanc
1. A Call to Arms

**Chapter 1:** A Call to Arms

_(updated 7/17/2005)_

* * *

The original Scooby trio, Buffy, Willow, and Xander, were sitting in the command room when the emissary of the Powers arrived. The command room was a large chamber dedicated to the organization of the Slayers' Council. Over a hundred display screens monitored the current known locations of Slayers, critical 'hot spots', the many Guardians, and any recently called potentials who had yet to be contacted. With this center, the Guardians on monitor duty could rapidly direct Slayers to new disturbances.

_(F.Y.I. – the title of Watcher had been replaced with a more favorable title of Guardian. To the minds of the original Slayers, Buffy and Faith, a Watcher would sit around and note the time and manner of a Slayer's death. A Guardian, on the other hand, sounded more like someone who would jump in and save her life. Therefore, the job title was changed to Guardian.)_

"So, Miss Prime Slayer," teased Xander, "how goes the training here at headquarters?" He had recently been on a potential retrieval mission down in South America, making first contact with girls who had just reached the proper age to receive their Calling. He had brought back another six girls, who would spend the next couple of years training at the Chosen Academy, the legitimate public face of the Slayers' Council training center in Cleveland, Ohio – the home of the most active Hellmouth.

"Everything is going really good for a change, Xander." She looked up at her oldest guy friend. "Those holding pens you built during your last visit have really helped. We're able to keep several dozen vampires around for the girls to practice fighting. Plus, Willow's got the first vamp-bots running, with realistic vampyric strength and speed. Giles is a great headmaster, and we actually have enough teachers who know about the Hellmouth-y parts of the world to finally hold regular sized classes in all subjects."

"Oh, and don't forget about the wicked cool Danger Room!" added Willow. "I built it up based on the one in those X-men comics you told me about. It's a totally controlled training environment for the Slayers In Training." She grinned at Xander, unable to resist adding in, "It can set for witches, or even regular folk like you. And, since I worked the mojo on it, it fixes itself after each use – since Slayers and witches tend to be a bit rough on the equipment."

"Cool! I'll have to check it out right after… Cordy?"

"Xander! Cordelia was high school!" argued Willow.

"Actually, she's behind you," laughed the newly appeared woman. Buffy and Willow turned to face the new arrival. "Hey, guys! Great work you've done here. The PTB's are just thrilled, especially seeing as you build all of this without any suggestion or influence from them. That means that the other side cannot counter our advantage in this realm." She beamed at the trio. "Because of you three, good has overcome evil in your dimension."

"So, you finally admit that you're from another dimension?" teased Xander.

"No, dweeb. Unlike you, I have moved on to bigger and better things. I'm an emissary for the Powers That Be. Now, the Powers have a proposal for you… well, for the Slayers' Council. Actually, it is more of a request. Since you have managed to give them an advantage here, they would like for you to put together a team to help out other realms."

"What, you mean like Stargate?" asked Xander.

"Actually, pretty much," she agreed. "Only, instead of the big metal ring thingy, they will be creating the portals – and instead of aliens, you will be fighting evil monsters and stuff. Now, they won't pay you or anything like that, but this would give you an opportunity to satisfy that urge to slay things. They will go so far as to supply you with 'people' gifted in creating weaponry and armor, so that you can supply everyone who will be going."

"So, let me see if I understand what you are saying," said Buffy. "The Powers That Be want the Slayers' Council to give them an army, which they will then send to another world, to fight evil in another dimension? And in return for this, they will supply us with armor and weapon smiths?"

"Basically, yes," agreed the ascended former cheerleader. "Oh, I almost forgot! If the people you send manage to swing the balance against evil in the dimension they get sent to, the Council will then have the ability to create a permanent gateway to that dimension, controlled by Slayers."

"You know, if we could pull this off, it might actually be a pretty sweet deal," commented Willow. "This other dimension they want us to save… Would we have to hide the Hellmouth-y and magical stuff?"

"As I understand it," replied Cordelia, "this place is fairly laid back about the whole magic bit. I cannot give out too many details unless you accept, but I can tell you a bit to try and get your interest peaked. There are no vampires or demons there. Instead, they have creatures called orcs, Uruk-Hai, and trolls. The bad guys also have a group of nine demon-like beings called Nazgûl, who used to be humans, but last dragon has already been taken care of. Oh, and there may be something called a balrog or two lurking in secret, but even in the bad old days they were pretty rare."

"Sounds like a party," joked Buffy. "How many of these things are there?"

"Well, the orcs have armies. Uruk-Hai are growing into armies. Trolls and such are less common. On the other hand, there are several friendly races: humans, elves, dwarves, hobbits, ents, and even a few actual wizards. This won't be like vampire hunting. In this dimension that needs your aid, the bad guys fight with armies," explained Cordelia.

"If we were to agree to this, and I'm not saying that we are," cautioned Buffy, "what kind of force would they like us to assemble? I mean, if the bad guys have armies, how many Slayers would they want to go to this world of theirs?"

"At a bare minimum, you would need to send fifty Slayers," replied the emissary. "Fewer than that wouldn't do enough, but a larger force wouldn't be turned away."

"Okay, here's the deal I'm willing to make right now," stated Buffy. "Your people supply us with a few of the promised craftsmen immediately, and I will present their request for assistance to the full Council. We will ask for volunteers only, and if enough of our girls choose to go will we send them. If we can get at least the fifty Slayers that your people need, we will send an army to this other world."

"I'll need to run this by the bosses, but I think they will go for it," grinned Cordy. "You may not realize it, but with the decline of evil on your world, the Slayers are finding fewer and fewer monsters to fight. There will always be vampires, but they cannot increase their numbers faster than your Slayers can dust them back down."

"Fine. You talk to your people, and I'll call for a meeting of the full Council," stated Buffy. Cordelia nodded and vanished. "I hope this was a good idea," she then whispered to herself.

"Let's worry about that after we find out how many Slayers volunteer for the mission," countered Xander.

"We'll only accept fully trained Slayers," added Willow. "No half-trained girls will be going off to war."

* * *

Several weeks later, the Slayers' Council was busy preparing to send an army into another world for the first time ever. Much to Buffy's surprise, Cordelia was quite correct with her claim that the Slayers were anxious to fight. They hadn't even come close to the required fifty volunteers – they had something in the neighborhood of five hundred! 

Slayer volunteers were coming in from bases all over the globe. Each one met up with the smiths sent by the PTB's – demon weapons and armor smiths at that. Luckily, the Slayers were able to curb their instincts to slay once they saw the weaponry those monsters could produce. For the chance to wield a weapon nearly as powerful as the Scythe, a Slayer could forgive a great deal.

That had been a bit of a surprise, actually. Faith, who had been selected as the leader of the first Slayer army, had asked on a whim if the new smiths could produce something similar in nature. After stating that they could easily reproduce the weapon but not the magic within, she had begged and pleaded with Red (Willow) to give it a shot. With the assistance of the coven of witches the red haired Wicca had gathered to support the Slayers' Council, she had found a way to nearly copy the Scythe's power. The replicas were not quite as powerful, having only about 80 of the oomph of the original, but they suited a Slayer better than anything short of the one true Scythe.

The armor created was designed specifically with Slayer abilities in mind. It was a synthesis heavy protection and freedom of movement, custom tailored to each girl's weak and strong points. The result was an army that lacked symmetry, but more than made up for it with skill and ability.

Luckily for the Slayers, the smiths were also able to help design the caravan wagons that would carry surplus weaponry, armor, food, water, clothing, and personal items. Each 'soldier' was granted a steamer trunk's worth of room for their non-combat items, which included 'formal' gowns for court appearances. Nothing modern went through, which included anything electrical and firearms. The most advanced things they were allowed to bring were the compound bows, which had a pull that only a Slayer or similarly powerful arm could draw.

There were eight wagons to haul the steamer trunks, another two for surplus weapons and armor, four for food and water, and a final two for undeclared future use. At the moment, the two extra wagons were only partially loaded with additional crossbow bolts and arrows. Each wagon would be pulled by a pair of Clydesdale horses, which the volunteers were being taught how to drive and tend. In addition, each Slayer bore a field pack, which contained their sleeping bags, a personal tent, and their own armory of weapons. Most also included a stash of food for snacking on the road.

Of all the people working for the new Council, it was Buffy's little sister Dawn who had organized the trans dimensional army. The young Guardian had a gift for such organization, and if not for her the volunteers would be much worse off when they crossed over into Middle Earth. It had been Dawn who had convinced Cordelia to acquire maps of the other realm, even if they were no better than those the locals would have. Dawn was also the one to insist that all of the Slayers be given the ability to speak the languages of men and elves, the two races with which they would have the most interaction. As a bonus, she gained them the written, too. (A side effect of granting this request was that all the Slayers gained these abilities, whether or not they would be going to Middle Earth. On regular Earth, they would come to use Elvin as a secret Slayer language.)

Sooner than expected, the volunteers were ready to begin their mission. In the middle of a field far removed from populated areas, five hundred armored Slayers, sixteen wagons, and thirty-two large horses were waiting for the first portal into Middle Earth to open.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this, Faith?" asked Buffy. Since the fall of Sunnydale, the dark Slayer had become Buffy's second in command – her right hand Slayer. She was another sister to Buffy and Dawn now, and they would miss their wild sibling – not to mention how much they would worry about her. 

"Yo, chill out B! Me and the troops are ready for this. Just think, a whole new world full of men we can get our freak on with! This is going to totally kick ass."

"Well, that is the general idea," chuckled Faith. "You take care of yourself, sis. If you die in another world, we're just going to pull you back like we always do with Buffy."

"Hey!" cried the bottle blonde.

"I'll be back little D," assured Faith, "you can count on that. Who else will listen to my bragging about all my wicked adventures? Now, where the hell is Queen C? Let's get this show on the road. The sooner I wipe out the big bad, the sooner I can tell my soul sisters all about it."

"Someone's eager," laughed Cordelia, appearing before the leaders. "Attention Slayer army!" she called out, loud enough for all the women to hear. "I will be you contact with the Powers That Be. If you need to cross back to this world, call out for me and I shall have a portal opened for you. Do **NOT** on me without a good reason, or I will be royally pissed off! Understand? Good!"

With a sweep of her arm, a rather large portal appeared about twenty yards beyond the spot where Faith and her sisters stood. "Go forth, and conquer the evil forces of the one known and Sauron!"

"You heard the lady, soldiers!" bellowed Faith. "Forward, march!"

Moving swiftly if not in unison, the army of Slayers passed from a field on Earth and onto a plain on Middle Earth. It took only minutes to make the transition, after which Cordelia signaled for the closure of the portal. Only she, Buffy, and Dawn were left.

"Well, I hope they can adjust to that world," commented Dawn. "I don't think Faith has actually realized that there won't be any dance music on such a technologically backwards planet."

"I'm just glad I don't have to hear her complain when she finds out!" Buffy grinned.

"Oh, joy," sighed Cordelia, "lucky me."


	2. The Arrival

**Chapter 2:** The Arrival

_(updated 7/17/2005)_

* * *

The portal closed behind the last wagon to enter Middle Earth. According to the information provided by Cordelia (via the PTB's, or whom the locals called the Valar), they were facing the direction that then needed to travel. Ahead of them was a fortress called Helm's Deep, where the forces of good would soon be ambushed by a vastly superior force. The home team would have the advantage of a fairly kick-ass fortress, but unless they received assistance they were doomed. 

Although a local wizard was supposed to be bringing a relief force, there was a fair chance that he wouldn't arrive in time. If any of the key players were to die before they completed their destinies, the big bad would most likely conquer this world. Faith was not going to let that happen.

"Listen up, Slayers! Today, we march to defend a bunch of innocents from an army of monsters. You have all been briefed on the creatures we will face. Just remember, the smaller man-like enemies will be weakened by the sun, but the larger ones will not suffer that handicap. These guys will be stronger than men, but they have yet to feel the might of a Slayer!

"We will go save the men of this land… the Riders of Rohan… so that we might have our wicked way with them once the slaying gets us all sexed up. For those of you who do not ride stick, you will probably have to get your fun on with your fellow Slayers. Reports indicate that this world is not big on the same sex pairings.

"Now, onward to battle!" she shouted.

"Onward to battle!" echoed five hundred women born to battle.

* * *

"Faith!" called one of the forward scouts. "We've found the fortress! Change direction to eleven o'clock, and you'll lead the others straight to it! The column must have drifted slightly off course since our arrival." 

"Faith!" yelled one of the rear guard, running up at full speed. "The enemy has been spotted on our six! They're coming up pretty fast! How far to this fortress?"

When their general looked to the forward scout, she estimated, "It's about another two hours away at this pace. Less if we run for it."

"Alright, we need about fifty volunteers for a delaying party. Use your bows to ambush the front lines. Fire off about three for four volleys, then fall back and set up another ambush. You will need to buy us enough time to get set up inside. We'll most likely have to deal with overprotective males, since this place probably has never heard of anything even resembling women's lib."

"My unit is ready to delay the enemy, Faith," called out one of the captains, a Slayer named Cynthia. Faith had twenty units in her army, each made up of twenty five Slayers – one of which was the captain. There were only nineteen captains, since Faith herself commanded a unit of twenty-four other girls.

"Mine can join hers," called out Slayer Jade, another captain.

"Great! Captains Jade and Cynthia, take your girls to the end of the line. Make sure everyone dumps their field pack on one of the spare wagons, and takes several extra quivers of arrows. And ladies, make each of those arrows count. You should be able to eliminate at least a tenth of the enemy before they reach the fortress!"

"Five by five!" the volunteer units yelled back.

"The rest of you maggots, start running! Keep it to the best speed the wagons can make. Move it!"

* * *

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli all raced to the wall when the sentries sounded their horns. Everyone had been surprised when a company of elven archers had arrived to bolster their numbers, but now it appeared that a second force was coming to join them. The warriors looked to be shorter than men or elves, but ran far too fast to be dwarves despite the axes they all seemed to carry. 

So, who were they?

"Look, an advance party is coming on ahead of the rest!" spotted Legolas. Indeed, a smaller group of just five ran on ahead to the main gates. Whoever or whatever they were, they moved like the wind.

"Quick! To the gates!" ordered Aragorn. The triad of trouble reached the gates just in time to hear the new arrivals hail the fortress. He didn't catch the words, but the ranger could tell one thing. "That's a woman's voice!" he exclaimed.

"But what would a woman be doing with a party of soldiers?" wondered Legolas. "All of those who came forward were wearing armor and bearing weapons of war."

"Who demands entrance into Helm's Deep?" shouted down the gatekeeper.

"Yo! Whoever's behind the stone wall! I am Slayer Faith. I and my army have been sent by the Powers… I think you know them as the Valar? We are here to fight the forces of Sour Ron…"

"That's Sauron!" hissed one of her companions, another female.

"Right, like I said, we've come to fight the forces of Sauron!" continued the woman calling herself Faith.

"How do we know you are our allies? What is your county and king?" demanded the gatekeeper.

"Listen here, pal!" The woman was growing short tempered. "According to the guys who asked us to come, you need our help. Open the god damned door or we're going home!"

"I think I'm in love!" growled Gimli. "She sounds like a dwarf!"

"Open the door man!" ordered Aragorn.

"But Lord Aragorn…"

"He said to open the door!" yelled Faith. "My soldiers need to set up their positions before the big ugly guys get here! I've got to units delaying them, but they'll be here by sunset. How in the hell can we protect the once and future king if we cannot even see him?"

"Faith, the once and future king was king Arthur," commented one of her soldiers, a third female voice.

"You know I'm talking about ranger-boy! Who cares what they call him? Our job is to make sure he doesn't become a pincushion! Open the damned door!"

"You heard the lady!" added Aragorn. "Open the gates!"

With a sigh, the Rohirrim gatekeeper instructed his men to unbar the main gates. By the time they swung open, the bulk of the new troops had approached the ramp. The woman, Faith, led her advanced party inside, glancing around until she spotted an elf and a dwarf. Recognizing who just had to be Legolas and Gimli, she faced the man she guessed had to be Aragorn.

"So, were can my girls park our wagons, Lord Aragorn?" she asked.

"Girls? How many of your soldiers are women?" countered the ranger.

"All five hundred of my warriors are women," she replied. "Lucky for you men, since each one of us are worth at least five of you in battle." When the riders of Rohan frowned, she gave out a wicked grin. "You have men, elves, and even a dwarf ready to defend this place. Now, you have Slayers to carry your sorry asses!"

"What might a slayer be, lass?" wondered Gimli.

"Slayers are warriors born, Chosen by the Valar to fight the forces of evil. We are winning that battle on our world, and the Valar asked us to come lend you a hand with your own war," lectured Faith.

"We don't need women to fight our battles for us!" snapped one of the Rohirrim.

"Oh lord, here we go," sighed one of the other girls.

Moving faster than even an elf could manage at the peak of performance, Faith grabbed the offensive blonde man by the throat. Using just that one hand, she effortlessly lifted the large man off the ground and held him in the air. "I suggest that you all those that attitude." Her voice was like ice. "Most of my girls are less tolerant than I am." With barely any effort on her part, she tossed her captive about twenty feet away – still using only one arm.

The men around them began to back away, whispering fearfully.

"My lady, you and your warriors may select your own positions upon the wall. I will lead your wagons to a location where they can be safely stowed, so as to avoid impairing our defense of the Deep." Aragorn began to walk towards the inner fortress, and Faith nodded to the drivers when they looked to her for permission.

"Gatekeeper, keep a look out for our rear guard. There should be another fifty soldiers no more than an hour behind us. I would advise you to give them less trouble than you gave me. Those girls have been killing Uruk-Hai, so they're bloodlust will be closer to the surface. Don't piss them off!"

"No, my lady," he humbly agreed. Like the others, he was in awe of her display of strength.

* * *

While her girls were setting up their positions – and forcing some of the Rohirrim to reposition themselves – Faith went with Aragorn to meet the local leaders. In the so-called war room, she found the elf Legolas, the dwarf Gimli, several Rohirrim advisors, a blonde female, and the man with the crown who led them. These were the leaders, both of war and of the people. 

"Greetings, Théoden king!" called Aragorn. "I bring you the leader of our newest allies, Slayer Faith."

"A woman?" scoffed one of the war-captains. "What kind of name is 'Slayer' for a woman?"

"Go mount your horse, little man," snapped Faith. "My name is Faith. Slayer is both a title and a description of what I am. Once upon a time, I would have been called Faith the Slayer, as there was only one Chosen One. A friend of mine changed all that, so now all who can be Chosen, are. With so many warriors on my world, the Valar asked us to send some of our forces to aid in your struggle against Sauron. As I understand it, the Valar have a bit more authority than any of you, so get off my back! Me and my girls are here to fight!"

"Our new allies are women?" asked the blonde, very eager to have this confirmed. "Truly? The women of your land are warriors, like the shield maidens of old?"

"The armies of my world have both men and women soldiers. Well, most of the nations do. A few still keep their women confined to the home. But my girls are special. We are Chosen warriors, and we have strength beyond even the strongest of men. Make that, greater than five of strongest men. Such girls are the Slayers."

"My king, this is nonsense!" scoffed the same war-captain. Before he could say more, Faith rushed up and punched him – in the center of a steel breastplate – and knocked him to the other side of the room. There was a fist shaped dent in his armor, with not even a bruise on Faith's knuckles.

"I'm getting sick and tired of this 'boys' club' attitude you people seem to share," rumbled the Slayer. "I am a warrior, and will be treated as such. I've killed worse monsters than you could even imagine, and I refuse to take any more shit from any of you. Now, Théoden, let me tell you what my girls will be doing to defend your heap of rock here.

"We are primarily hand-to-hand fighters. We use our speed and strength to overwhelm our enemies. Now, my rear guard – who should be passing through the gates any time now – got a good look at the enemy force. They were several tens of thousands strong, all those new Uruk-Hai of Saruman's. With any luck, my people should have eliminated one of every ten on the way over.

"When they first approach the walls, we will be using our bows." From a sheath on her back, Faith pulled out her compound bow. The pulley wheels amazed and confused the primitives. These bows are specially designed to utilize the strength we possess, so they will have a range half again to double that of the elven longbows. Should the enemy get close enough to storm the walls, then my people will switch to their scythes." Faith put her bow away, and pulled out her scythe.

"There are enchantments on that axe," muttered the elf. "Powerful magics," he muttered.

"You should see the original weapon. Mine's only a copy. The magics forged into this weapon are designed to boost a Slayer's natural abilities, making us stronger and faster then what is normal for us. It is also a perfect weapon for our fighting style, as a longbow is for an elf, or an axe is for a dwarf.

"Anyway, once they try to storm the walls, we draw our scythes and go invade their side," smirked Faith.

"Your people will attack after they breach our defenses?" wondered Théoden king. "I must wonder about your sanity."

"Wouldn't be the first one," she replied. "Now, I must see to my girls. Try and stay out of their way… as a general rule, Slayers don't take orders very well. In fact, we Slayers only listen to people who have earned our respect. The Valar had good things to say about you, the elf, dwarf, and ranger, plus another pair of Rohirrim named Éomer and Éowyn. Other than those few, we really don't know much about you people."

"I was mentioned?" demanded the blonde. "The Valar mentioned me as a battle leader?"

"You're Éowyn?" asked Faith. "They mentioned you specifically. In fact, I have something for you, which they instructed my people to gift you with. Come, walk me to where our wagons have been stored, and I shall retrieve it for you, Lady Éowyn."

And without even looking at any of the men in the room, Faith led the princess of the horse lords towards a new destiny – one never before conceived of on Middle Earth.

* * *

"Where is this gift you promised?" asked Éowyn. Faith had been looking in each of the wagons for about two minutes, and the shield maiden was growing impatient. "If you had been a man, I would suspect you of luring me away from my family for vulgar reasons." 

"You're cute and all that, blondie, but I've gotten over my lusting for petite blondes. Still, it never hurts to check…" with her trademark wicked grin, Faith snaked a hand behind Éowyn's neck and pulled her head in for a deep kiss. "Nice, but no spark," she then rated the kiss. "We could have fun in a bed, but there is no future for us together. Sorry." She then ducked into the next wagon. "Ah! I found it!"

What she had found was a full field kit, like each of the Slayers had carried into Middle Earth. After that, she pulled out a smaller bundle, which looked to contain clothing, armor, and a great deal of weaponry. At the top of the bundle was a scythe replica.

"This is my… gift?" asked Éowyn.

"This and the kiss," Faith smirked. "If you feed me, you may even get another. Seriously, however, the gift is actually a choice. You can stay in the life you have now, or you can choose for something more. If you desire, you can become one of us – become a Slayer. According to the Valar, you are worthy of being Called. Because the Slayers are not native to your world, you get the option of deciding whether or not you wish to acknowledge your Calling – something no other Slayer has ever had before."

"If I were to become one of the Chosen… a Slayer like you… how would I do that?" There were stars in her eyes, as her mind dreamed of the glory of combat. It has been her life-long dream to become a shield maiden, like Rohirrim women of old, and now an even greater possibility was being handed to her. "I want… I need… to become a warrior like you."

"Making the choice is simple," answered Faith. "If you chose the Calling, merely draw your scythe. If not…" Faith didn't even get to finish, for Éowyn practically jumped on the pack in her effort to grab her new weapon. As her fingers touched it, both she and it were surrounded by a golden white glow. That glow was absorbed into the blonde woman, and she could feel new strength and power flow into her body. "Welcome to the club, my sister," the dark Slayer chuckled softly.

"I feel… different," understated Éowyn. "I like it."

"Yup, there's nothing like being a Slayer," she agreed. "Now that you are one of us, there are a few things you need to know:

**One:** Slayers have an instinctual ability to learn and master all forms of combat. This includes just about any weapon you can lay your hands on. You will also learn to anticipate blows in unarmed combat.

**Two:** We have a great deal of power. With the Calling comes an increase in speed, strength, agility, and coordination. We also gain an incredibly fast capacity for the healing of nearly any injury.

**Three:** You will now have a new sense, in addition to sight, hearing, and the like. This one will tell you when evil draws near. It can also tell you if magic is being used, and perhaps even tell you who and where it originates – depending on how acute this sense is in you.

**Four:** A Slayer craves to fight. It is a part of what we are, and if the urge is not satisfied you will become unsettled and violent. Be careful that you do not let this craving control you. I let that happen once, and it led me to kill an innocent man. As a rule, Slayers do not enjoy killing humans, so try and avoid it if you can.

**Five:** All of these wonderful enhancements need to be fueled, much like a fire. Our fires burn brighter and hotter than those of normal people, so we need more wood to keep burning. Basically, this means a Slayer's got to eat. Don't be afraid to fill your belly, and to do so frequently.

**Six:** Fighting will have consequences on our kind. This is my favorite part of the whole package, and is actually similar to number five. Slaying makes us hungry, but for more than just food. As I like to put it, we get hungry and horny."

"We grow horns?" gasped Éowyn.

"What? Oh, no! No horns! Where I come from, the term horny is another way of saying… amorous." Éowyn blushed. "Not to worry, it is not an uncontrollable need. However, if you have a man – or woman, if you go that way – then you will feel the need to retire to a bed after a good fight. Also, you can just do it for yourself."

"I don't understand. How would I…" Faith glanced around quickly, then leaned over and whispered into her ear for several minutes. Apparently, noble women of this world had several severe gaps in their education. That kind of thing happens when your women folk become just a bit too sheltered. By the time Faith's class on self-love was over, Éowyn's face was as red as puddle of fresh blood.

"Trust me, you will figure it out later," assured the brunette. "Now, there is one final thing that I need to warn you about. Slayers sometimes have dreams. Of course, everybody has dreams, but sometimes ours are special dreams. We call these Slayer dreams, and they can give us warnings, messages from the Valar, or just allow us to talk to our sister Slayers. Sometimes, we even talk to a girl with long clumpy hair who paints her face with mud. Pay extra special attention to anything she says, because that's the First Slayer. She's kind of like our own personal Valar. If you see her, then you know for sure that that dream is very important."

"So, let me review what you have told me about Slayers," began Éowyn. "We can fight, use any weapon, are strong, can sense evil, actually need to fight, fighting makes us hungry and… horny, and our dreams give us messages that are important. Is that everything?"

"You got it," Faith smiled at her. "The rest is small stuff that you can figure out on your own. So, now that I've given you the low down, why don't you try on the armor included with your gift?"

"Is it armor like yours?" she asked. Now that she had taken the time to get a good look at Faith's armor, Éowyn realized that it offered only partial protection while revealing a large amount of skin normally not shown by ladies of high station.

"I think yours is a bit more conservative," she laughed, "since not every Slayer is as daring as I am. Here, try it on. And lose the skirts! No one can fight in an outfit like that!"

Minutes later, Éowyn the king of Rohan's niece had been replaced by Slayer Éowyn. Her armor was quite proper for a lady of her station (except for being pants rather than skirts), while still allowing for complete freedom of movement. Strapped over that armor was a small arsenal of personal weaponry, including a compound bow, sword, scythe, a dozen throwing knives, two long knives, a razor-edged buckler shield, and a brace of wooden stakes. That completed the second package, leaving the field pack for her to carry on her back.

"Well?" asked the Rohirrim Slayer. "How do I look?"

"You look like the Slayer you have become," complimented the dark Slayer. "Come, I must join our sisters, while you must rejoin your king. Until I have the time to test your abilities, you will avoid combat. Protect the women and children for now, and after we destroy this army you will be tested and trained. Got it?"

Éowyn proved her Slayer connection by replying with a phrase she had never heard before.

"Five by five," stated the Rohirrim.

* * *

When she joined her sisters, Faith observed that the Slayers had situated themselves in small groups all along the wall. This allowed them to take advantage of an ability that was only discovered after all the Slayers were called at once. When they shared a battle, like they were doing now, all the Slayers involved gained a heightened Slayer sense. It covered the area populated by Slayers, which today meant the wall around Helm's Deep. Each of the Slayers could simply sense weaknesses in the defense, and moved their forces so as to minimize said weaknesses. 

Helm's Deep had a rather large weakness.

All of the Slayers could sense it. The grate where water could flow under the wall was like an open door to Slayer senses. When she went to look at the grate, Faith immediately saw why. A sufficient explosive charge placed in that grate would blow a rather large doorway open for their enemies. Middle Earth did not use explosives, but their enemy was a wizard.

Who better to invent gunpowder than a wizard?

This was so not good!

"You and you!" she yelled to the two nearest Slayers. "I want you to watch this grate very carefully. It's wigging out my Slayer-sense. Something tells me that the enemy will try and use it somehow. If they do, come and get me immediately. Don't interfere unless it looks like their plan will cause immediate damage."

"Alright," stated the first of her selected volunteers. "Now that you mention it, it is starting to creep me out as well."

"Stay alert, girls." Faith gave them a deadly serious glare. "This could be a critical point for this battle. If I am right, you will have a key role in the outcome today."

"What if you're wrong?" asked the second volunteer.

"If I am wrong, then the two of you will get to take point in the next battle – assuming you both survive."

"YES!" roared the duo. Slayers loved to be on the front lines. There was more chance to slay.


	3. Battle of Helm's Deep

**Chapter 3:** Battle of Helm's Deep

_(updated 7/17/2005)_

* * *

As the army of Uruk-Hai marched into the valley that fronted Helm's Deep, Faith was congratulating her returning rear guard units. Thankfully, all fifty Slayers were still alive, even if a few had serious looking cuts and gashes. Though the injuries looked serious, they were mere flesh wounds for a Slayer. 

"Report, squad leaders!" barked the dark Slayer. She noticed that the surrounding Rohirrim were waiting to hear how the 'little girls' had done in battle. Boy, were they in for an eye opening experience.

"Aye, Faith," mock-saluted captain Jade. Her fellow squad captain and sister Slayer Cynthia stood by her side. "As ordered, both of our units engaged the enemy in a series of retreating ambush maneuvers, to provide the bulk of our forces time to prepare a defense here in the fortress. In that, our mission was completely successful."

"Totally!" agreed Cynthia. "We kicked some major demonic ass! Upon Jade's suggestion, the two squads made a series of piggy-back moves, the rear unit providing cover fire as the forward unit fell back and secured a new position. She's brilliant at the war maneuvers!"

"During each period of fire, our girls took down between three and five of the enemy. We did our best, but I'm afraid that a total of seven arrows were fired without killing the intended target. Luck was with us on two of those occasions, as the arrow was able to take out a second demon to the rear of the targeted one." Jade looked thoughtful for a minute. "Our final tally stands at three thousand, two hundred and fifty-seven demons killed."

"Don't forget about the additional forty-two who were killed by their fellow demons, before they realized that we were the ones firing arrows into their ranks," laughed Cynthia. "There was this totally awesome fight that broke out when one of those Uruks thought their own archers were firing off arrows. Besides the forty-two killed, they injured several hundred more before the fight was broken up."

"Were any of the injured killed by our girls?" Faith demanded.

"Of course not!" countered Jade. "Injured enemies helped to slow their march. We targeted only the fastest and strongest of those we faced. By my estimates, we eliminated roughly ten percent of the enemy."

Apparently, one of the Rohirrim was fairly good at math. "You expect us to believe that each of these little girls has already killed over sixty of Saruman's Uruk-Hai?" he asked. "And that between them, only five arrows fired failed to bring down an enemy?"

"Pathetic, isn't it?" agreed Faith. "I want every girl who fired one of the stray arrows to man the supply wagons for this engagement. And ladies, next time I instruct you to mount a rear guard, I'll expect to hear a much higher kill count! Do I make myself clear?"

"Five by five!" called out her troops.

Lord, how she loved hearing that from her Slayers!

* * *

"Ugly bastards, aren't they?" Faith turned to see the dwarf, Gimli, standing at her side. They were standing along the outer wall, watching as the demonic forces of Saruman began to form into nice orderly columns. He was able to see over the high wall, because the Slayers had erected a wooden platform all along, so that they could see over the edge… and so that they would have room to fire their arrows. 

"You think they are ugly, you should see some of the nasties I have taken out back home. I'll admit, though, that back home they rarely gather in such a large force as this." She then grinned her evil grin. "On the other hand, my girls weren't around in our present numbers, either. This should be a fun little battle."

"Tell me, Slayer," began the elf, Legolas, "do your warriors keep score?" He and Gimli shared a glance. "Master Gimli and I have a wager, on which of us shall have the highest count."

"Are you kidding?" she asked in wonder. "Slayers always keep a count! How else to decide who is the best among us, if we failed to tally our kills? Tell me, green-eyes, do you weight your count by the strength of your enemies, or do all kills count equally?"

"We had not decided that as yet, since it will not matter for this battle. All below are Uruk-Hai."

"That is fine for now, but I have heard that ring-boy has other beasts under his dominion. The weaker ones called orcs, and larger beasties called trolls. I really want to fight one of these trolls!" Both elf and dwarf could see the flames of battle lust in her eyes. "Have you ever seen a troll?"

"Indeed, lass, we fought one such beast in the mines of Moira," informed Gimli. "Not only did out group manage to kill the troll, but we also faced a balrog!"

Faith began to tremble with battle lust. "You got to fight a balrog? Oh, I hope we get to fight a balrog before this war is over! Such a fine addition to my score a balrog would make!"

"You're a bit scary, you know that?" asked a fearful Legolas.

"On the contrary," she argued, "I'm a lot scary. Well, looks like it is time for me and mine to start this battle."

"The enemies are still outside of arrow range!" yelled Legolas.

"Your arrows, maybe, but not mine, elf. Slayers!" she called out to her forces. "The demons think they are safe where they stand. Let us show them that they should not underestimate a Chosen one! Open fire!"

At her command, all the Slayers along the wall began to fire upon the army below. Unlike the armies of man, they did not launch volleys to rain down on their foes. Each Slayer fired at her own pace, after carefully selecting a specific target. Faith herself was firing arrows almost as fast as an elf could manage, hitting targets at a greater distance than even one of the fair folk's bows could reach. Every single shaft that left her hand ended the life of a creature on the field below. Within minutes, there were gaping holes in the enemy lines.

And then the warrior women ran out of ammunition.

Turning to the interior of the fortress, Faith yelled out, "Ladies! Reload!" Even as she yelled, there was a group of her girls rushing up the stairs. Each bore a rather surprising number of arrows, bound in large bundles that they carried with ease despite their bulk. The Slayers along the walls started claiming sufficient arrows so as to refill their quivers, most grabbing additional handfuls of arrows and placing them in piles down at their feet. The men of Rohan were then amazed when the re-supply runners leapt off the wall and down to the ground below, landing as if they had fallen several feet instead of many yards.

"Well, what are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?" Faith asked of her troops. "If you've been re-supplied, resume firing!" As the Slayers resumed their slaughter of Uruk-Hai, the enemy suddenly realized that if they stood there, they would die before taking the fortress. In a rather unorganized manner, they began to storm the walls. "Primary targets are anyone carrying a ladder or arming a siege weapon!" barked Faith.

"_When they are in our range,"_ called Legolas in the elven tongue, _"begin firing at will! The Slayers are focusing on the ladder bearers and those operating the engines. Our targets will be the rest of the army! Focus on their archers, and keep the ladies from coming under counter fire!"_ The elven longbows sought out their Uruk-Hai counterparts, and made significant inroads to dropping their ranks.

Seeing both of their allies firing and slaying the enemy, it wasn't long before the Riders of Rohan began to open fire as well. Unlike their more skilled friends, the human archers assumed their standard practice for sieges, launching waves of arrows in unison. The elves and Slayers almost immediately modified their tactics, to exclude the area the humans were covering, so as to more fully cover the field of battle.

With such extensive firing, the Slayers soon exhausted their own supply of arrows. By that time, it looked like over half of the enemy had been laid low. The women began tossing their bows down to the re-supply squad, who took them back to their wagons for safe storage. Those on the wall without bows were quick to draw their scythes, and awaited the first siege ladders that rose without Slayer arrows to stop them.

"I've got thirty-five so far, green-eyes!" grinned Faith, standing with her scythe in hand. "How about you?"

"This one makes seventeen for me!" he said, frowning. Then he brightened up, "but poor Gimli has no one to kill!" he laughed.

As a ladder hit the wall before her, Faith flashed a glance at the dwarf. "I'm ahead of elf-boy on the bow. Care to compete with me in the axe, Gimli?"

"Ay! You are a lass after my own heart, girlie. Here they come!" roared the dwarf.

"Death to the dark ones!" bellowed Faith. "Death is our gift!"

"Death is our gift!" roared the Slayer forces.

The first Uruk-Hai to top the wall lost his head to Faith's scythe. The second had his head cleaved in by Gimli's axe. All along the wall, as ladders touched stone, Slayer blades began to spill black blood. One could almost feel sorry for the enemy, as they had no way to plan for the Slayers' inclusion in this battle. Not only were they failing to make a presence on the wall, they were beginning to run low on reserve forces.

"Faith!" yelled one of the Slayers she had watching the storm grate. "Faith! You were right! The demons are stacking some type of containers under the wall!"

"Shit!" she growled in response. "Gimli, you'll have to take my spot in addition to your own. I'm needed elsewhere. Let's go!" she ordered the Slayer. Dropping off the wall, the pair quickly made their way to the grate, where several large metal urns had been piled up on the opposite side. "Well, this can't be good. Go and get the re-supply troops. We need to get those containers out of there."

"Are we going over the wall?" queried the second grate watcher.

"Fuck that!" snapped Faith. "We're going to rip this grate out, remove the containers, and charge the enemy front! Help me break these bars loose!" The bars were thick, and made from strong iron, but the demon-forged steel of the scythes cut through them well enough. When the re-supply group arrived, most of the bars had been cleared out. "Girls, start carrying these urns out of the way!"

The strength of the Slayers quickly cleared the newly formed passageway. "Faith, I think this stuff is a primitive form of gunpowder!" exclaimed one of the girls.

"One way to be sure," Faith muttered, taking a pinch of the black powder and tossing it onto a nearby torch. The powder burst into flames, causing a brief flash and burst of noise. "Certainly looks like gunpowder to me. Take the urns and put them in one of the empty wagons. This stuff might be useful later on." She turned to face the remaining Slayers. "Start gathering our sisters, and inform our allies! We're going to charge the enemy lines!"

From the Slayers near enough to hear her words, cheers began to erupt. Finally, instead of firing arrows or holding a wall, they were going to fight the demonic forces in battle. Slayers soon began to flood down off of the battlements, gathering behind the tunnel to await the charge.

"We go!" ordered Faith, leading the charge outward. Immediately upon clearing the tunnel, she faced a charging demon carrying a strangely sparking torch. "Ain't gonna happen, bub!" she grunted as she lopped his hideous head off from his shoulders. "Death is our gift!" she cried once more.

"Death is our gift!" answered the Slayers.

* * *

From atop the battlements, it looked as if a river of death began to pour forth from the storm drain. As more and more Slayers raced through, the wave of dying Uruk-Hai spread like oil on the surface of a pond. In a battle such as this, the women were invincible. By the time the enemy had started battering down the gates, they had Slayers slaughtering them from behind their own lines. 

When they had charged, there had been at least ten times their number still alive. While sustaining many small to moderate injuries, the Slayers laid waste to the army of Saruman. The women even formed a line to the rear of the monsters to prevent any from escaping. Such was the degree of their battle lust. Before too long, the horse lords mounted a charge into the killing fields, helping to mop up the survivors.

Long before dawn, the last of the enemy was struck low by the blade of a Slayer.

While the men celebrated, the Slayers were busy on the ground. Dead enemies were stripped of all weaponry and armor, which was then stacked in large piles of plunder. Arrows were salvaged for future use in later battles. The bodies were heaped into great rotting piles for later disposal, after each was beheaded to guarantee the kill. Very few were still living when that blow came.

"There you are, Faith!" called a slightly inebriated Gimli. "I managed a count of twenty-seven with my axe!" he crowed triumphantly. The overgrown tree squirrel is off sulking, since his final count was still two bodies shy of your tally on the bow!" He laughed in glee. "How did your axe fair, battle maiden?"

"I am no maiden, short stack," she growled, "and my scythe claimed thirty-nine of these ugly brutes. So, did you come down just to talk about our scores, or do you want to claim your share of the plunder?"

"You would use their weapons?"

"Well, probably not. These Uruk-Hai do not make the best blades. The steel is nice and strong, however, and we plan to melt it down to make our own weaponry. No sense in letting the stuff rust away."

"You Slayers are too focuses on the battle, lass. Take some time to celebrate!"

"Oh, we'll party down," she assured him, "just as soon as we finish taking care of the dead." As she gestured to the rapidly clearing battlefield, Gimli took his first real look at just what the ladies had accomplished. The majority of the bodies had already been stripped, beheaded, and stacked up into great piles. There were enough weapons and armor to outfit a large army, all nicely sorted and piled for later retrieval.

"How about I get some of the squirrels and men to help finish, and then we can have a grand feast in celebration?" asked the dwarf.

"Do it, and I just may have to find a way to thank you properly," she leered at him. "Tell me, master Gimli, are dwarves short and stout all over?" She laughed as the bearded one blushed like a bonfire. "You get the help, while I see about the feast."

* * *

"Cordelia!" called Faith. Almost immediately, the agent of the Valar appeared before her. Faith had moved to the far end of the valley, so that she might hold this conversation away from local eyes. "Hey Queen C! How's tricks?" 

"Hello, Faith. Nice work here."

"You were watching?"

"A great many beings were watching this battle. Not many believed that you Slayers could make such an impact in this battle. Most were expecting the wizard to come rescue your butts in the morning. I heard your little talk with Gimli earlier, Faith. I took the liberty of having the Council prepare a little surprise for your girls. Just a token of our appreciation."

"Oh? What are we getting?"

"A party," Cordelia grinned in reply. "Buffy's loading several wagons with food and drink. Knowing you as I do, I had her load one entire wagon with kegs of beer and cases of liquor. Not the swill, either. Your girls deserve the good stuff."

"Fuck, Cordy! I love you!"

"Thanks for the sentiment, Faith, but I'm straight," laughed the emissary.

"A night with me would change that," smirked the Slayer, "but I suppose I can find another warm body to get my freak on with. When's the beer coming over?"

"It should be ready in an hour or two."

"Great. When you open the portal, can I send a wagon for two back through? I figure that the blacksmiths your bosses sent to the Council might like to melt this junk down and make some real weapons out of it."

"Let me check…" She vanished, only to return moments later. "The PTB will allow you to send the weapons back. Get some of the wagons loaded, and we'll do a swap once you're ready."

"This is going to be one killer of a party!" laughed the dark Slayer.

* * *

Two hours later, the Slayers had piled up all of their wagons with plundered weaponry and armor. Each wagon was fully loaded with steel, as most of what they had retrieved would be going to the Council and their demonic smiths. When Cordelia opened a portal at the far end of the valley, and equal number of wagons passed each other as they crossed realms. Food came out, while metal went in. 

After the victory feast, the emptied wagons would be re-filled with the Slayers' supplies.

Despite the continuing rain, the riders of Rohan came out onto the cleared field to drink and eat with their female allies. Even the more reserved elves joined the celebration. Gimli was greatly impressed with the varieties of ale provided. The elves preferred the wines, and the men drank anything with alcohol in it.

Those Slayers who could play instruments and had them in their trunks pulled them out and started amateur bands. Where they played, dancing started. The Slayers, now freed of their armor in favor of tighter clothing, moved with the wild, savage grace their kind naturally possessed. For the males who dared to join them, the night became an endurance trial. Oddly enough, not a one of them complained about it.

* * *

When dawn's first light crested the horizon, the Slayers began rising from wherever they had settled for a night's sleep. Despite the drinking, dancing, and loving they had enjoyed after the battle, the ladies were fresh and alert when they rose. The ones who had been injured in the fight were already mostly healed. The one girl who had been grievously injured by an Uruk-Hai arrow was on the mend, and should be ready to travel in a day or two's time. 

Faith had just finished getting dressed following her horizontal dance with Gimli when riders entered the valley. At the head of a large force of Rohirrim was an older man dressed all in white. This new force seemed shocked to find a celebration instead of a battle. Faith grabbed her scythe (even in casual clothes, few Slayers let their precious scythes get far from sight) and strode off to meet the man who just had to be Gandalf.

"Hey, Whitey!" she yelled. "You're late!"

"And who might you be, my dear?" asked a cautious wizard. From the look on his face, it was clear that Gandalf wasn't certain whether or not to trust this stranger.

"She is only the fiercest fighter I have ever had the pleasure of joining in battle!" exclaimed Gimli, coming up from behind her. "Faith and her warriors have gained us a victory! They fight like dwarves when they use those axes of theirs!"

"And like elves with their bows!" countered Legolas. "Placing the Slayers against Uruk-Hai is like an army of hobbits fighting ents! You should have seen them in combat, Gandalf! Faith, how many did you slay in last night's battle? Over seventy, I hear."

"It would have been more," she claimed, "except we ran out of demons to kill! Lucky for me, Gimli was here to help me burn off the rest of my restless energy." Once again, she caused the dwarf to blush crimson. "Great endurance in a dwarf, I must admit."

"My, my, master Gimli," teased Legolas. "Who would have thought it?"

"After the next battle, it's your turn, green-eyes," she teased the elf. "How else will I determine which of you is the best?" She laughed wickedly when both elf and dwarf began to blush. "You guys are too easy!"

"I must say, you are quite an interesting woman," Gandalf smiled down from upon his horse. "I welcome you, as a fellow defender against Sauron."

Faith eyed him up and down, a speculative look to her eyes. "You're a bit older than I usually like, but I could give you a test drive, Whitey. How does a wizard compare to elf or dwarf?" The riders surrounding them laughed with Legolas and Gimli. "Can I rock your world, wizard?" She stood in a sexually aggressive pose, challenging him to resist her charms.

"I fear you are too much woman for any man to handle, regardless of his race," he replied diplomatically.

"You got that right, gramps. So, would you and your boys like to come break fast with me and my girls?"

"I fear that our work is just beginning, my lady," countered Gandalf. "Our enemy will retaliate, and when he does he will strike quick and hard. We must make a trip to Isengard, for Saruman cannot be let free to cause further mischief. Then, we must make haste to Gondor, for it is the last defense against the hordes of Mordor."

"No rest for the wicked, huh?" replied Faith. "I'll start rounding up my girls, while you have a chat with Théoden king. Slayers! Get your shit together and prepare to march! Time to get back to work, ladies! And somebody make sure Éowyn joins our ranks!"

Faith marched off, leaving an amused and somewhat bewildered wizard behind.


	4. The Fall of Saruman

**Chapter 4:** The Fall of Saruman

_(updated 7/17/2005)_

* * *

Faith and her squad looked down upon the ruins of Isengard. Keen Slayer eyes spotted what looked to be trees walking through the ruins, destroying the few remaining remnants of the former fortress. All that remained intact was the central tower, which was protected by a tainted version of the power that flowed so pure from Gandalf the White. Something had cleared the way for them, and something told her it was those trees. 

"Well, it looks like we don't have to fight anyone today," she commented. "Good thing, too, since we only brought a small party with us."

Indeed, besides the twenty-five Slayers, the group included Aragorn, a group of his rangers who had met them on the road, Théoden and his honor guard, Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf. Their numbers were sufficient to contain one lonely wizard, but not an army.

"It would appear that Saruman had forgotten what happens when one angers the ents!" laughed Gandalf. "Come, my friends! Let us pay our respects to my old friend and master." It was clear to all that the white wizard was greatly enjoying the failure of his one time comrade.

They rode forward, only to find two very small people manning the ruins of the gate. The Slayers were able to tell that the two were drinking, eating, and smoking as they relaxed upon their lofty perches. There was something about the wee ones that lightened the hearts of the demon killers.

Upon their reaching the broken iron gates, one of the hobbits stood and bowed extravagantly towards them. "Welcome, my lords, to Isengard. We would ask you to excuse the state of things, as we recently had some remodeling work done in here."

Gimli nearly knocked Legolas off of the horse they shared as he shook his fist at the two chortling hobbits. "You rascals!" he growled delightedly, "A merry hunt you have led us on, and now we find you, feasting and… and smoking!" The betrayed whine of the dwarf had nearly everyone trying to hide their smirks and muffle their laughter. Even Legolas, who was looking at the pipe weed in disgust and wrinkling his nose, couldn't help but laugh at the antics of his strange friend.

The second hobbit stood up and cried, "I will have you know that we are sitting on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts. Which I think is deserved. On a side note, I found the salted pork particularly good."

That nearly had Gimli drooling, "Salted pork?" he repeated hopefully.

Gandalf just shook his head and playfully swatted at them with his staff, "Trust a Took and a Brandybuck…" he said, bubbling with mirth.

"Hey!" protested the first hobbit, "We are on duty here, I will have you know. We are under orders, from Treebeard, who has graciously taken over the management of Isengard."

"Oh, my goddess!" cried one of the Slayers. "They are so cute! Can I keep one?" Several of her sisters made similar comments.

"Faith, please control your soldiers," Gandalf said, putting an end to the banter. "Now where is Treebeard."

The first hobbit pointed into the vale, chewing on a slice of salted pork that Gimli was eyeing with disturbing intensity. "That way."

The newly arrived party entered into a wrecked and ruined Isengard. An ent soon spotted them and came over.

"Ah, young master Gandalf. I am glad you have come. Wood and water, stock and stone, I can master. But there is a Wizard to manage here, locked in his tower. "

"Any chance we can get him to come down peacefully?" asked Faith of Gandalf.

Gandalf gave her a long look. "Somehow, I think not. Be careful, Faith. Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous. He has lost his army, but yet retains his magics."

"I know that," she replied, "but I am confident than you can outwit him. In my experience, when magic folk go bad, it takes a heavy toll on their minds. Something about being evil makes one arrogant to the point of stupidity."

"Let's just have his head and be done with it," stated Gimli.

Gandalf shook his head and glanced at Théoden and Aragorn. "No, he is not to be killed," declared the wizard. "We need him alive. We need him to talk…"

"Good luck with that," grunted Faith, eyeing the evil wizard peeking out from one of the upper windows of the tower Orthanc. "It doesn't look like he plans on obliging you. For some reason, the bad guys don't like to share information about their little schemes. At least, they will not talk until one applies a serious beating."

"I like her," declared Gandalf suddenly. "Her view of the world is rather refreshing in its clear yet violent nature. Come, my friends! Let us see if Saruman shall receive a… serious beating." Everyone laughed.

* * *

Approaching the sleek stone tower of Orthanc, they dismounted. Gandalf banged on the doors with his staff. "Saruman!" he cried, "Come down! Saruman, come forth! Saruman!" 

They were kept waiting so Faith walked over and pounded on the door, making it rattle. "Get down here Saruman!" she yelled, "Or else we will come in and drag you out!"

At that, a window above them opened up, "What do you want?" hissed a man Aragorn informed the Slayers was Gríma Wormtongue, former councilor to Théoden king. Aragorn had been supplying them with an abundance of background information during the trip to Isengard.

Éomer, Théoden's nephew and heir, glared at him, "Well, Wormtongue." he called, "I have a matter to discuss with you concerning my uncle and sister. 'Tis gladdening that two such enemies are here, trapped and at our disposal. Go get Saruman, worm, since you threw your lot in with him. And make haste!"

Another figure, swathed in a grey cloak, came to the window. He spoke softly and each of the Slayers felt the hairs on the back of their necks stand up. An enchantment came from his voice, and it settled over all of their party. The enchantment was constructed so that Saruman's voice seemed wise and reasonable, so that it seemed pleasing and honest. "Well? Why must you disturb my rest? Will you give me no peace at all by night or day?" he said, sounding like somebody's aged grandfather.

"Come now," Saruman said, "Are you all here with murder in your eyes? Some of you at least I know by name. Gandalf I know too well to have much hope that he seeks help or counsel here. But you, Théoden King, I am surprised. Why have you come to me, seeking death and destruction? Why have you not come before, and as a friend? And not like now, as an enemy. Will you trust in the evil counsel given to you or will you hearken to one that has always been a most steadfast ally? Is it yet too late to save you from this folly? Despite the injuries that have been done to me, in which the men of Rohan, alas, have some part, still I would save you, and deliver you from the ruin that draws nigh inevitably, if you ride upon this road you have taken. Indeed I alone can aid you now."

Éomer and Théoden stared glassy eyed for a moment, and then shook their heads, even as Gimli waved his axe and shook it at the still smug wizard. "The words of this wizard stand on their heads," he growled, gripping the handle of his axe. "In the language of Orthanc help means ruin, and saving means slaying, that is plain. But we do not come here to beg. But to return the 'favor' you claim to have done for Rohan. I think a meeting with the sharp end of my axe would be beneficial."

"Or perhaps my scythe, master Gimli?" asked Faith. "We could kill him together, if you like."

"Peace!" said Saruman, "I do not speak to you yet, Gimli Glóin's son. Far away is your home and small concerns of yours are the troubles of this land. But it was not my design that you became embroiled in them, and I will not blame such part that you have played - a valiant one, I doubt not. But I pray you; allow me first to speak with the King of Rohan, my neighbor, and once my friend. What have you to say, Éomer King? Will you have peace with me, and all the aid that my knowledge, founded in long years, can bring like your uncle did? Shall we make our counsels together against evil day, and repair our injuries with such good will that our estates both come to fairer flower than ever before?"

None of the males in their party notices when Faith gestured for several of her girls to circle around behind the tower, and away from prying eyes to climb up and in.

Éomer was silent for a long moment, marshalling his composure against his raging temper, "I did not come all this way after a grievous victory to bandy words with an old liar with honey on his forked tongue," he said calmly but strongly, "So would the trapped wolf speak to the hounds, if he could. You claim to give us aid? When you are a dealer in treachery and murder? Remember my cousin Theódred at the Fords! Or do you deny your part in it? Was it perhaps the fault of an army of another wizard named Saruman? Or is the White Hand no longer your sigil? Do not seek to fool me with lies and honey, cretin. I feel nothing but disgust and hate for you."

"If we speak of poisoned tongues, what shall we say of yours, young serpent?" Saruman snarled, his own hold on his temper slipping, "Ever have you poured poison in your uncle's ear, telling lies and falsehoods about me and I have held my tongue against your bile. But come, Éomer, Éomund's son! To every man his part. Valor in arms is yours, and you win high honor thereby. Meddle not in politics too complex for you to understand! A future king must choose his friends with care. The friendship of Saruman and the power of Orthanc cannot be lightly thrown aside, whatever grievances, real or fancied, may lie behind. You have won a battle but not a war – and that with help on which you cannot count on again. You may find the Shadow of the Wood at your own door next; it is wayward and senseless, and has no love for Men."

Éomer's hand slipped to the pommel of his sword as he listened to the words, the mockery underneath the enchantment clear to the future Lord of the Mark, "Will you not listen to your betters and make peace with me? For you do not have the wits to sustain the land of Rohan!"

"We will have peace," Éomer said strongly, seeing through the lies as he always had. "We will have peace, when you and all your works have perished – and the works of your dark master to whom you would deliver us. What will you say of your torches in the Westfold and the children that lie dead there? And they hewed Háma's body before the gates of the Hornburg, after he was dead. We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold and the children that lie dead there. We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged. When you hang from a gibbet from your window for the sport of your own crows, I will have peace with you and Orthanc. Your voice has lost its charm, snake."

Instantly, Saruman's face twisted into an ugly sneer and a cold rage was visible there, "Gibbets and crows!" he hissed at Éomer, "Fool! What is the House of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor amongst the dogs? Too long have they escaped the gibbets themselves! But the noose comes, slow in the drawing, tight and hard in the end. Hang if you will! And what do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess... the key of Orthanc or perhaps the keys of Barad-dûr itself, along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the five wizards!"

"I am no longer what Gandalf the Grey, whom you betrayed," Gandalf said levelly. "I am Gandalf the White, who has returned from death. You have no color now, and I cast you from the order and from the Council."

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" cried Faith in a sing-song manner. "You are out of allies, wizard, and it is time to pay for your crimes against these good people!"

"And you think that you can defeat a wizard, little girl?" Saruman said. "Do not think that I do not know what you are. You are a liar, a cheat and a murderer. Is not right? An assassin by trade, and by choice, who kills for the pleasure of it? But you are no threat to me, little girl."

"Your treachery has already cost many lives," called out Gandalf. "Thousands more are now at risk. But you could save them, Saruman. You were deep in the Enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know. Redeem yourself."

Saruman scoffed at him, "So you have come here for information. How trite. But I have some for you," he said holding out a palantír, and images swirled around in the bright glass. "The Great Eye presses his advantage while you flounder. His attack will come soon. He has been ready for many a year and now you fall all over yourselves trying to stop the inevitable. You are all going to die. But you know this, do you not, Gandalf? You cannot think that this ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, who has crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king. One of a line that ran away from their duties once before… Exile, hearken to me! Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him… those he professes to love. Tell me, what words of comfort you gave the halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death. You knew it then and you know it now."

His words set all their tempers on edge, and Gimli tried to coax Legolas to shoot him. Gandalf once more tried to talk sense into the wizard. "Come down, Saruman, and your life will be spared. I promise you."

"Save your pity and your mercy. I have no use for it!" He raised his staff, and even as he lifted it the Slayers could feel… something… gather strength. Even as it was released, each of the women instinctively blocked it. Fire swirled towards Gandalf, but died before it could reach him. Gandalf raise his own staff, while in another window Gríma hurled the discarded palantír at his rival.

"NO!" Saruman roared at the hapless man.

The wizard seemed to have flown backwards, away from the window. He disappeared from sight. From below, Gandalf tried again to reach him, "Saruman! You were deep in the Enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know!" Sighing, he turned away when he received no answer. "His own malice and ambition has poisoned him forever. He would rather hide in his tower than do anything to redeem himself. If he will not aid us, then a prisoner here he must remain."

In the water, the hobbit Aragorn had named Pippin (short for Peregrine Took) moved towards an orange rising from the knee deep water that covered all of Isengard's grounds. Curiosity caused him to pick up the round ball that Gríma had thrown at Gandalf. Even as he tried to get a decent look at it, Gandalf was there to sweep it out of his hands.

With a great boom, the doors to Orthanc tower crashed open. Two Slayers were dragging out the wizard, while a third carried an unconscious Wormtongue over her shoulder and carried Saruman's staff in her hands. They dragged the wizard before Faith, who glared at him in anger. He tried to look confident, but there was a hint of fear deep in his eyes. The Slayers were something he did not understand or recognize.

"Well, well, well… if it isn't the number two big bad," she drawled. "What can you tell us of the Enemy's plans, Saruman?"

"I will tell you nothing, wench!"

"Wrong answer," she replied. The two girls who had captured him held him upright by his arms, while she stepped forward and drove her knee hard up into his manhood. There wasn't a male present who did not wince at her action, except for the wizard himself. He promptly hurled up his latest meal down the front of his robes. "Now, let us try this once again. What can you tell me about the Enemy's plans?"

"I will… tell you… nothing," he panted. Talking now took considerable effort.

"If you keep up with this attitude, wizard, then I am afraid that you are in for a very long day. You were actually quite correct when you named me an assassin. Once upon a time, I myself worked for an evil man. At his command, I struck down innocents. You see, I have very little problem with killing people. Hell, I even participated in my share of torture. Just because I have returned to the side of good, it does not mean that I am above doing what I have to do to stop evil.

"For example… give me his hand," she ordered the Slayer holding his left arm. "How many bones can I break before you tell me what Gandalf wants to know, little wizard? Will you tell him yet?" She read the denial in his eyes, and snapped his little finger back before he could speak. Instead, he screamed. "Ready to talk yet?" He glared at her in pain and hatred, so she snapped the next finger. "Eight more, then I start on your toes."

In the end, the riders of Rohan and their allies had to watch Faith break all his fingers and toes, both arms, and finally one of his shoulders. Eventually, the pain became too great, and he began to babble as fast as possible. Whenever he started to reconsider, she would slap him on the broken shoulder, causing a renewed surge of information.

Once Gandalf was satisfied that he had learned all there was to gain from his former mentor, Faith calmly snapped the prisoner's neck. Gandalf came over and glanced briefly at the dead body laying in the water. "And so it ends," he said, "He had potential to do good, but his own ambition would not let him. And so his time in Middle Earth ends."

"And good riddance," added Gimli.

"Come," Gandalf said, "We have not the time for this. The Enemy moves against us. We know where he will strike, and thus we must gather the riders of Rohan, and make haste to Gondor!"


	5. Gathering the Rohirrim

**Chapter 5:** Gathering the Rohirrim

_(updated 7/17/2005)_

* * *

Riding back from Isengard, they soon joined the column of people moving from Helm's Deep back to Edoras. Théoden king planned to send out a summons to all of his riders, and assemble his army before riding off to Gondor. Thanks to the recently departed Saruman, they knew that they still had some little time before the dark armies would march on Gondor. With any luck, they would be able to prevent the Enemy's forces from ever reaching the White City. 

On their first night back in Théoden's seat of power, Faith caught the hobbit Pippin trying to boost the palantír from Gandalf. She had woken from a rather disturbing dream about the 'Paths of the Dead' and Aragorn. It was a Slayer's dream, so she made sure to remember to mention it to the ranger come monarch.

After dragging Pippin away from the wizard, she had one of the Rohirrim find her a stout wooden box and several long steel rods. Without waking Gandalf, she herself swiped the stone, placed it inside the box, and finally bent the rods around it to make a big metal bow. Now it would be nearly impossible for a curious hobbit to get at the dangerous magical artifact.

When the wizard awoke to find himself holding a metal bound box instead of the stone, Faith was forced to confess the events of the previous night. Although relieved she had prevented a possible catastrophe, he was concerned about what future trouble the halflings cause.

"Faith, I fear for the defenders of Ithilien; they may not even hold at Osgiliath, should they be pushed back that far. They are the last line of defense before the citadel of Minas Tirith. If the Enemy realizes that Saruman told us of his plans, he may attack sooner than planned. Also, I do not trust the Steward of Gondor, Denethor, to prepare his city for war. I fear that I cannot wait for the Rohirrim to gather. Need dictates that I go on ahead."

"My girls are ready to travel," she replied, thinking it would be better if they went with Gandalf. "Five hundred Slayers could greatly increase the defenses of this Ithilien place, don't you think?"

"I need to travel in great haste, my lady, and your soldiers do not ride horses. Other than those who pull your wagons, you do not even have horses."

"Slayers can travel fairly fast, even on foot. If you feel that our best pace is not fast enough, then you should go on ahead of us. We have maps of the realm, and will be able to make our own way behind you. In fact, that may be better in the long run… we can invade Gondor in three waves. First a wizard, then the Slayers, and finally the Rohirrim will come to their aid. Oh, and as a final touch, the future king can bring the dead to fight."

"What do you mean?" he asked, curious.

"My kind… Slayers… are cursed with the gift of prophetic dreams. Sometimes, our dreams give us warnings about the future, or caution us on a course of action. Last night, I caught the wee thief because I awoke from such a dream. It involved Aragorn and something called the 'Paths of the Dead'. He needs to walk those paths, for the dead will answer his call. They will be a great boon to the battle that lies ahead."

"Are you certain of this dream of prophecy?" he queried.

"I am fairly certain of it, yes," she replied. "Just to be completely sure, I can check if the other girls had the same dream. Since the witch cast the spell that allowed more then just one girl to be the Slayer, we have discovered that when Slayers gather together, the dreams are more detailed and have greater accuracy."

"Very well, then I think you should get your soldiers ready to travel. Ask about the dream while you do so. I have my own preparations to make. We shall depart at first light tomorrow morning."

"Cool," she grinned. "Now all I have to do is convince Théoden to allow his niece to leave with us." In response to Gandalf's questioning look, she told him, "She was Chosen. When given the option to accept or refuse the Calling…"

"She accepted, of course," finished the wizard. "To a woman such as Éowyn, that offer would be irritable."

"Yeah, she accepted before I could even finish speaking. That girl was born to be a Slayer. Once she gets a little more training, I think she will be a wonderful addition to our ranks."

"I don't envy you the task of stealing away the king's daughter," said Gandalf. Then he grinned before adding, "Isn't that usually the job of a foreign prince?"

* * *

Faith made her way among her captains, giving the order to prepare for departure with the dawn. It soon became evident that all the Slayers had had the same dream. Even Éowyn had shared in it; she was able to explain its meaning to her newfound sisters. That is why Faith later approached the shield maiden.

"We need to inform Aragorn," stated Faith. To her dismay, the woman got all starry-eyed when the ranger's name was mentioned. "Éowyn, you need to get over him. The future king is betrothed to the lady Arwen. You cannot have him." The dark Slayer paused to think for a moment. "He is nice to look at, though."

"Oh my, yes," purred the woman of Rohan.

"Just try to keep in mind that what attracts you to him is mostly the idea that he could take you away from the life of a regular woman. You are a Slayer now, girlfriend! That life is gone now, Éowyn, and it cannot be yours again. You will forevermore be a warrior."

"Lord Aragorn is a man who would not confine a woman to the kitchen and the laundry," she pouted.

"There's an important Slayer motto you should learn. Actually, it is more of a life path: Get some, get gone."

"And what does this mean, to get some and to then get gone?" asked Éowyn.

"It is all about sex, girl. You know, a man and a woman in a bed… sometimes on a table," teased Faith, making her companion blush. "Sometimes, it works with two women and a bed…" she reached over and caressed the Rohan woman in a manner she had never been touched before. "Slayers often prefer to get what they need, sexually, then move on to bigger and better things. You don't need to buy the cow, if you can get the milk for free." At her look of incomprehension, Faith added, "Who needs marriage when a tumble gets the job done."

"You are a wicked, wicked woman!"

"And it is ever so much fun!" agreed Faith. "Come, Éowyn! Let us find the gorgeous Lord Aragorn. He needs to know that his immediate future lies along the Paths of the Dead."

* * *

"Hello boys!" Faith greeted the trio of Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn. "Ranger boy, we have to tell you something, something important." The ranger looked a bit nervous, being confronted by both Faith and the woman he had to turn away not long ago. "In private, if you please."

"Very well," he replied with a great deal of hesitation. Éowyn led them into a side chamber, and Faith secured the door behind them. "What can I do for you, ladies?"

"If you weren't betrothed to the Evenstar, I would suggest something involving the three of us, heated oil, and a really big bed," teased Faith, "but you are so I won't." The girls shared a grin when he blushed. "Seriously, the Slayers have shared a vision concerning the forces that we will face at Minas Tirith. Éowyn, you understood it best. Why don't you explain what we shared?"

"Lord Aragorn, I have learned that Slayers possess the dubious gift of prophetic dreams," began the first Slayer of Rohan. "It is a part of who and what we are…"

"You are a Slayer, Lady Éowyn?" he interrupted.

"The Valar selected me as a… Potential, was it?" she asked Faith, who nodded in the affirmative. "Yes, a Potential Slayer. Due to changes made to the method in which Slayers are Chosen, unlike those on their home world, I was given the option to accept or decline the Calling."

"As a shield maiden of Rohan, you obviously accepted such a destiny," he grinned.

"How could I do anything else?" she replied. "When I accepted my Calling, I learned many things about becoming a Slayer. Among them were the dreams that come to guide us. They convey warnings when evil draws near, and they also give us insights into how to defeat the coming evil. Last night, all of the Slayers on Middle Earth dreamed about you."

"And what did these dreams entail? Am I to become a force for Mordor?"

"Nay, my Lord," denied Éowyn, "you will not. I do not believe that would be possible. In this dream, which was the same for all of us, you left the Rohirrim before they reached Gondor. You traveled the Paths of the Dead to secure the services of the oath breakers. If you promise to hold their oaths fulfilled, they will come with you to battle the Enemy's forces."

"They will not come easily," cautioned Faith. "The dead have little cause to trust the living. Just remember that their curse is a result of their failure to answer your ancestor's summons to war. Until a king of Gondor releases them, they will rot in their tenuous existence forever. Oh, and one more thing… When you give them the promise to release them, make certain they will remain until the end."

"What do you mean?"

"Promise to release them either when the Enemy's army has been broken, or when Gondor's has failed," commented Éowyn. "The dream warned that the oath breakers will demand release once the force threatening Minas Tirith has been overthrown. Sauron has forces still in Mordor, and those forces must be confronted while the ring bearer does his duty. Retaining the services of the oath breakers for that second battle will save countless lives."

"Just make certain that they will still be released in the event that the armies of Man fail," warned Faith. "The dead will be more likely to accept your call if they know that release will come so long as they fight. Now, if you will excuse us, the Slayers need to prepare for our own departure."

"You are leaving already?" asked the ranger who would be king.

"My girls can travel faster than the riders. We will be ready to leave with the dawn. Together with the white wizard, we will prepare Gondor for the arrival of her allies. Gandalf doesn't trust the Steward Denethor. The old man fears he will not have the city properly prepared for a siege. One way or another, we will protect your city, Aragorn."

"It is not my city yet," he demurred.

"Soon, it will be," she countered, smiling back at him.

* * *

The Slayers easily finished their packing that day, and when dawn broke over the plains their army was waiting to leave with the white wizard. As soon as it was light enough to see, he led the five hundred and one women out on the road to the white city. Only he and Éowyn had mounts, and she left hers tied to the wagons for the start of the journey. Also, she had lacked the courage to confront her king and uncle. Instead, she left a note that would be discovered long after they had gone.

"Wagon drivers!" called out Faith, "give us best possible speed. Ladies! I expect every single one of you to easily pace these brutes! Mr. Wizard, show us the way to Gondor!"

The Clydesdales that the Slayers had brought to haul their wagons were endurance champs. They did not reach racing speeds, but what they could do was maintain their ground devouring canter all day long. It soon became evident that Gandalf had not expected the girls to be able to run at the same speed as the draft horses. Not only did they match that pace, they were able to run without suffering from fatigue like a human would.

It was clear that the wizard would have liked to travel faster, yet he did not seem too disappointed by their rate of progress. What really amazed him was the fact that after setting up camp each evening; the girls would spend another two hours training in combat. Their newest recruit, Éowyn, struggled a bit at first. By the second day of travel, her newfound Slayer abilities had 'grown in' to the point that she could compete with her sisters. Apparently, all the training she had managed while still a mere human translated well into her Calling.

Finally, they rode up to the gates of the greatest city of the race of Man.


End file.
